The Daughter of the Sun
by pinkish-red hearts
Summary: It's been 3 months since Katniss gave birth to Willow... and even years longer since the war. But when she receives a visitor she thought she'd never see again, Katniss discovers her strange, mystical past and wounds that haven't quite closed yet.
My lullaby is reduced to almost quiet hums once I feel little Willow's soft breathing against my chest. I sway my daughter a little while longer to make sure she's fully asleep. When I'm absolutely sure, I carefully settle her in her crib and cover her with a little blanket. I lightly run my thumb over the light tuft of brown on Willow's head. My touch lingers, relishing the warmth of realness of my daughter, until I convince myself that she is real and safe. I withdraw my hand and head downstairs to boil water for tea. Usually, Peeta does this for me but he already took three months away from the bakery ever since I got pregnant and then three more when I gave birth. It was time for him to take charge of the bakery. He would have taken a longer time off if I hadn't insisted. Delly is good with the bakery but with Haymitch and Effie helping run the place, the girl only had so much patience.

"Mom!" I call out. She has been the only reason why Peeta agreed to run the bakery again. My mom offered to keep an eye out for me, but now she's-

I nearly blank out, the feeling of abandonment creeping back in me, then I see the note on the fridge.

 _I didn't want to disturb you. Out to get some groceries. Be back in a bit._

 _-Mom_

I release my breath. My mom and I still have a lot more to go in terms of healing our relationship so I become on edge over every little thing. I shake the negative feelings away, though, and get back to my task.

Suddenly, I hear something shift behind me. My hunter instincts kick in and I discreetly move toward the knife holder.

"I have taught you well, my little bird."

I tense up. It has been years since I heard that nickname and that voice but I know it all too well. Except-

I grab a knife and spun around.

I haven't realized I dropped the knife until I hear it clatter on the floor.

The man looks the same as he did when I was eleven- the disheveled dark hair, the gray eyes that sparkled with kindness and mischief, even every crease and wrinkle that was etched in his face is the same. It's as if Alder Everdeen hasn't aged since the day he kissed my cheek before leaving for the mines that will collapse around him.

"N-no. This can't be-," I whisper.

"Hello, Katniss. I promise you this isn't your imagination, or any trick. It's really me, your father," he assures me, but I scowl at him. Instead of being intimidated though, he simply smiles sadly at me. "I just… This family needs closure. And I want to apologize really badly. I'm really sorry for leaving you, but I had to. It was my duty to do so."

"Duty? What are you talking about?" I say.

"I don't know how to say this exactly, Katniss, but," he takes a deep breath before continuing. "You know where Panem is based off right?"

I simply stare at him.

"Panem is based of Rome. And what did Rome have?" he spreads his arms in a grand gesture of revelation. "Gods. Gods that were based on Greek gods."

"And?" I deadpan.

"You, Katniss, are half god. A demigod."

My gaze is a laser.

"Look," I growl at the man. "I don't know who you are and why you look exactly like my dad, but you better get out. If you know me, you know what I'm capable of."

The man didn't flinch at my threats. He just raises his arm. I suck my breath when his hand was bathed in light.

I completely stop breathing when a gold bow appears.

"How-,"

But I'm not able to finish my sentence when a golden arrow, that appeared when the bow string is pulled back, zips past me. I can hear it land on the cabinet behind me.

"You missed," I say.

"Trust me, Katniss, I didn't. I don't wanna hurt you. I just wanna talk," he says, lowering his bow.

"Okay, but I'll meet you at the living room."

"You're going to check on your daughter," he guesses. "Fine. Whatever eases your worry," he replies, and I run upstairs to Willow's bedroom. She is still soundly asleep and I make my way downstairs to the living room. I find the man… my father… sitting on the couch in front of me. I take the recliner opposite him.

"Talk," I snarl at him.

"I'm still your father, Katniss, but it's not my true name. There is no god named Alder, well, at least not in the Greek or Roman myths."

"Who are you, then?"

"Phoebus Apollo," he momentarily stands up and bows in that cocky way he used on mom when he was cheering her up. "God of Prophecy, Music, Medicine and the Sun," he adds before sitting down again.

Despite the fact that he had conjured a bow out of nowhere, I'm still quite doubtful he is telling the truth. He can still be a Capitol mutt, made to look like my dad. There can very well be a DNA somewhere of him and recreated him. The conjuring a bow out of nowhere could be a bonus trick.

"Your doubt is strong, my little bird," he sighs. "Very well. I'm gonna have to show you my power."

He flicks his wrist and then the scene around me changes. I can still see him. Both of us are still seated on our respective seats. But we are no longer in our living room. It's as if we're flying but it doesn't feel like it. I don't feel any movement. But we find ourselves in front of a grand ballroom of white marble trimmed with gold. The only things of variety are the several majestic thrones where equally majestic figures sit on it. They all look impressive, but one particular figure draws my attention. On a purely golden throne with rays on its backrest-like wavy spokes on a wheel- sits a lithe man with golden hair. He is quite handsome, yes, but familiar, too.

"That's me on the golden throne," he answers my unsaid question. "I usually sport a blond hair but I make a few exceptions sometimes."

"How are you doing this?" I ask. "It must be some latest Capitol technology."

He sighs. "I'm the god of the sun, and by extension, light. Light can easily manipulate your vision."

"Who's that beside you?" I point to the brunette girl in a braid, and silver toga. She almost looks like me when I was eleven, when I lost my father. But something about the way she sits radiates power and wisdom. Somehow, I take a liking to her. A part of me feels like I should know her.

Father chuckles. "That is my sister, Artemis. If you were born way earlier, I bet she would have asked you to join her hunters. I have a feeling you'd join, too, if you didn't have a sister to take care of."

I stare longer at who was supposed to be my aunt.

"Why do you all look tired though?"

They are slumping on their seats and look out of breath, as if they spent a whole week training.

"Gods were getting weak while human power was rising," he explains, and then the scene shifts to a war. Those figures-the gods are fighting each other and other creatures, too. The creatures look like mutts, but far worse, and bigger, too.

"After the natural disasters the gods caused that flooded the entire world." Then, the scene was flickering between a massive war of- do I dare think it- magic, and footage of floods, hurricanes, tornados, blizzards, earthquakes and more.

"Zeus, the chief god…" the figure I remember that sat in the middle of the white marble room stands impressively and a gate closes in front of him. "…declared that we were going to stop fraternizing with the humans. We did. But despite our blood being slowly dissolved by mortal blood as generations went further, our nature still lived on in the humans," I see several people flash before me. At first, they are total strangers. But they all seem to wear several variations of an orange garment with a black logo of a winged horse or a purple one with golden logo of leaves circling the letters 'SPQR'. The later faces, they have different uniforms and these are whom I know from school. They are our ancestors- the Founders of Panem.

"The Romans, being the more disciplined ones, got to rule America. Therefore, Panem and its many Roman references."

The scene mostly shows off wonders of the Capitol, but then it flashes to District Thirteen. It has been years but I know it looks cleaner than when I stayed there during the war. Suddenly, scenes from the Dark Days is shown. I grip the arm rests and I look pleadingly to my father. He nods understandingly and everything grows dark for a while.

"Of course, the Greeks, highly concentrated in Thirteen, wanted to be more powerful than the Romans but were a little too undisciplined for it. So, Rome, the Capitol, won."

All I can do is nod. All this talk of gods, disasters, and power struggles are washing over me, but it's as if the surrealism and impossibility of it numbs me like an over exposure to ice would.

"The gods were still dying. We still are in fact," he continues and out of nowhere, the blond haired god from earlier is huddled in a cloak and running, occasionally looking back as if escaping from something. "I did not want to spend my last years sulking in Olympus, that's the throne room from earlier, so I decided to live a human life."

The setting changes to a familiar place years ago. We are now in Seam. Not just any part either. It is the house where I grew up, except it doesn't look as run down as I remember. On the base of its steps is a dark haired boy huddling himself. At first, he looks like he's asleep, but upon closer look- his chest isn't heaving. I doubt the boy is breathing anymore. The cloaked god came into the view and he reached his hand out to the boy. The boy dissolved into mist. Meanwhile, the god turns into a sort of light silhouette of himself that shrinks into the same size as the boy. Then the light is gone and he looks exactly like the dead boy, except… well… he's alive and moving. I feel vaguely disturbed over what I just saw. Suddenly, we are back in the living room. I can feel myself getting a little ill- from the magic video or the whole tale, I'm not sure.

"I lived a life of a boy who died. I stole his name, face and family. I became Alder Everdeen."

My mouth begins to dry. He stole a life of a boy, a boy who could have been my father. I do not know what to think of it.

"The boy was five, dead and he barely did enough in his life, nor did he meet many people for it to matter too much," he shrugs as if reading my thoughts. I'm not sure what to make of his nonchalance. But I can't judge him. How many times have I made heartless decisions in my life, just so I could save one person, endangering many? "So, I lived his life. Yes, District 12 was miserable. I barely had enough to eat most of the time, and even the Reaping made me nervous but I liked feeling human. Rotting in comfort just did not do for me."

He smiles thoughtfully but my stony expression doesn't shift.

"Especially when I got older," he continues. "And Peacekeepers grew lax. There was nothing like the thrill of hunting and the tranquil of the woods. You're my daughter. You understand that feeling, don't you, little bird."

I try to remain expressionless but I understand what he means. The rush and the peace coexist in perfect harmony when I'm in the woods. Despite everything I have gone through, that will never change. I find myself smiling a little.

"Then I met your mother, an excellent healer. I loved her Katniss," he looks like he's trying not to cry. "She was gifted with healing- the normal sort, not magic. But what I liked about her was she was soft-hearted." Suddenly, his features looked devastated. "But I never knew how soft until I… died."

"What do you mean?" I do not know when I had my scowl back on but I seem to notice it as I say this. My mother and I may not have been on best of terms but I feel like I want to protect her with his next words.

"When your mother had Prim, I had a prophecy. Our powers were draining every second and I hadn't had any major prophecies in a while, so I was caught completely off guard."

He looks so haunted that I almost feel sorry for him.

"You and your sister were meant to unite the remnants of the human race. Your sister was the spark and you were the flame."

I can feel my blood begin to boil. Before I know it, I speak in a shaky voice. "Why didn't your prophecy tell you millions would die?"

He doesn't reply and it makes me angrier. Next thing I know, I am screaming the next words.

"Why didn't your prophecy tell you Prim was gonna die?!"

To my surprise he yells.

"I knew!" But it isn't out of anger, at least not at me. It is distress, disappointment and guilt and it takes me aback. His expression softens. "It was part of the prophecy," he says more quietly now, but the crack in his voice indicates he's trying to hold it together. "I knew that my baby girl was going to die before I could truly know her. And that I had to leave and 'die', yet I couldn't do anything about it. Do you know how devastating it is? To know the fate of someone you love? Over and over again? To be powerless against fate? You were the first children I had in many, many years, Katniss. But it's still as horrible even if you're the first demigods in decades. You don't think it broke my heart?"

The anger surges within me again and I stand up.

"Excuses," I spit. "If you ARE a god, you should have done something about this. Maybe millions wouldn't have died or ended up messed up. This is all YOUR fault. Prim is dead!" My voice is reduced to a hiss. "Prim is dead and I'll never get her back," I realize my face is streaked with tears. "You know very well that Prim is all that matters to me, and you left her to a mother who died inside. Then, you let Prim die."

He says nothing and this prompts me to scream again.

"Prim is the only person I live for!"

Suddenly, I hear crying upstairs, and I feel a pang of guilt. My yelling must have woken Willow up. I quickly wipe my tears away and then immediately run to her room. I pick up the squalling baby from the crib and cradle her. After a while, she quiets down into soft coos.

"She's beautiful," I turn around, unsurprised to see my father there. "You're getting the hang of carrying her. I know how difficult it was for you to do so. You never wanted kids after all."

I clutch Willow tighter, as if she's going to be taken away. Father twitches a smile at that.

"I truly am sorry, Katniss. I wish that I could have been there for you. I watch over you, you know. Your Aunt Artemis also helped protect you, too, despite Zeus' outrage. It's just that sometimes in life, we have to make difficult choices, for the good of others."

I only nod absentmindedly.

"But all the sacrifices aren't for nothing. Plutarch was right with what he said years ago in the hovercraft on your way to Twelve after your release," he says, and it roused my curiosity. "You are now heading for everlasting peace. The gods are going to fade, but your race will survive in harmony."

I still nod quietly, and he walks closer toward me. For some reason, I don't move away. He strokes my daughter's hair and gave it a kiss.

"Besides, you have other reasons to live for, now. Like this little fella over here."

He caresses Willow's cheek and the baby giggles.

"You have a new family now. Not just Peeta and Willow but your friends, too. Your big family is dysfunctional but you all need each other."

Suddenly, tears begin to flow heavily on my cheeks again, and I bury my face in father's chest. He told me his real name, showed me his powers, along with his story, but all I want is my father. He is always going to be Alder Everdeen to me. I feel his arms wind around me and rub circles at my back. He even sings me the lullaby- the one I used to comfort Prim, and Rue, and now, Willow. I am crying so hard that I almost do not hear my mother calling me from below. Father breaks apart and wipes my tears.

"I have to go see your mother now. And tell her how so very sorry I am," he says softly. "But I asked a favor from a family member of mine."

He seems to wave his hand and a blinding light illuminates from beside me. I feel father briefly kiss my cheek before he walks away.

When the light dies down, I turn to the source.

I gasp, and hear my mother do the same downstairs.

"Katniss," She looks the same as she did years ago- almost fourteen, with blonde hair in a braid and kind, blue eyes. She's wearing a long white gown, though. She looks like an angel.

"Little duck."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thank you for reading. This idea has been running around in my head for ages. I even wrote a Rick Riordan style prophecy but it sucked so I didn't include hahhaha. I hope you enjoyed reading.**


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